Spoils of War
by Crysty
Summary: Seiftis Quifer. Private and reserved Quistis Trepe Carroway is annoyed when confronted with the romantic attentions of the cocky war hero Seifer Almasy. Higher rating for language.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Back to my favorite Final Fantasy pairing! Thank you for being patient with me._

_To answer some questions I may get: Yes, I plan to continue Not to Be Trifled With, my Princess Diaries story. It will be updated in June._

_I'm not yet ready to handle Nothing to Lose._

_I hope to update this story once a week, but I'm really picky._

_Thank you for bearing with me and please enjoy._

_Crysty  
_

* * *

_Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII does not belong to me. It belongs to Squaresoft._

_Note: The story starts out parallel to plot, with one exception: Quistis is not an instructor at Balamb. It starts in the middle of the game, but does not stay there for long._

* * *

**Spoils of War**

By Crysty

**Chapter 1: Loud Red Cinderella**

Quistis Trepe Carroway was an excellent judge of character. Within seconds of first meeting anyone, she'd have the person assessed, categorized, and when necessary, condemned.

The first time she saw Seifer Almasy, there was very little to recommend him. A girl, no, a ruddy-haired jewel-eyed _siren_, had run out of his quarters in nothing but a smile and a bedsheet. She turned around, and blew a kiss to the handsome young man standing in the doorway, who was sporting a smug grin of his own and a towel.

His body attested to the fact that Hyne was definitely a woman.

No male deity would be that generous to the human race.

She concluded disgustedly that he probably knew he was all that, too. All that, and a bag of chips.

He turned to focus his gaze on her now, and allowed his smile to settle upon her, finding a cozy spot in her stomach, where it threatened to eat away at her inner balance.

She frowned back at him.

"Quistis! Here!"

The blonde looked further down the hall to see the brunette smiling and waving at by the wall-spanning windows at the end.

She smiled with relief, and proceeded down the hall to meet her stepsister.

* * *

The next time she saw him, he was fully clothed.

Her stepsister noticed her gaze. "Interested?" Rinoa asked, eyes alight with interest and humor.

Quistis scowled. "He walks around as if he owned the place."

"Well..." Rinoa giggled. "He doesn't, but he would have everyone believe it."

The subject of their musings walked across the cafeteria. He wore clothes appropriate to his style, she concluded, taking in the gray trench coat stretched across his broad shoulders, the fitted black underneath that skimmed his athletic posture, and of course, the annoyingly curious charm on the leather string that hung from his neck. He greeted a girl (not the same one from the morning, Quistis snidely noted) with a more than friendly kiss and settled at the table next to her, taking up entirely too much of that poor woman's personal space. Quistis was almost disgusted.

She watched his operations silently. Rinoa watched her stepsister with growing curiosity. At length, Quistis focused her eyes on Rinoa. "Just how close are you to this guy? Does Dad know?"

"Just friends. And you know that I don't care what the old man says."

* * *

Half an hour before the SeeD graduation ball, Quistis stood in the middle of the room she was sharing with Rin at the Inn at Balamb. Rin was circling her and calculating _everything_, from her eyeliner to her painted toenails.

Quistis wondered at the repercussions of what was to occur tonight...her own goals of remaining inconspicuous were completely thrown out the window because of Rin's crazy red dress and makeover wand.

Painted toenails! "And _why_ are you wasting so much time on me?" she gestured towards Rin's own hair, still in curlers, and Rin's stunning...bathrobe.

"You don't know how to dress yourself. I tell you that we're going to a ball, and you bring...some pouf!"

"It's called a ball gown. People wear them to balls."

"Not this kind a ball."

"What kind of ball _is_ this, anyhow?" Quistis wondered. "What kind of ball would one wear...underwear to?"

"It's called a slipdress."

"I can see why. Are you sure it won't just...slip off?" Quistis watched Rin warily. "Are we done yet?"

"Not yet," Rin replied, and before Quistis could protest, she was being attacked by a floral spray.

She waved her glove-clad hands in front of her face and almost sneezed, until Rin sent her a dangerous look. "You mess up _anything_ I've accomplished in the last hour and I will _kill_ you."

Quistis rolled her eyes.

"Done," Rin stood back, satisfied. "Quis, you look stunning...delectable."

"Am I a strawberry?" Quistis gestured to her bright red dress.

Rin whipped off the blanket she'd put over the mirror and let Quistis have a look at herself. After a glance, Quistis turned away in horror. "What have you done to me?!"

The short strawberry red silk accentuated her slender figure, hugged her breasts, hinted at her cleavage, and was cut high enough to showcase her long legs. The red satin sandals added three inches to her regular five seven.

Her hair had been left down, slightly wavy and falling mussed. The brilliant blue-violet of her eyes was brought out with eyeshadow of the same color, and her long thick eyelashes were accented with mascara and eyeliner. Her reading spectacles had long been hidden away. And her mouth...

It was highlighted in bright sexy red. Loud red. Her lips were uncomfortably startling. "Rin! My mouth!" she turned to her sister.

Rinoa gave herself props for this one. Her stepsister was a total knockout, thanks to her. "You look like a siren. You'll totally floor them."

"Floor them? Floor who? The General sent me to babysit you, not to have you play dressup on me. And here I am...my head hurts..." she lifted her arm to massage her temple.

"Don't you _dare_ touch the hair! I spent a long time doing that!"

"It looks messy! There's no real...part!"

"_Sexily_ messy, and it's _supposed_ to have no part."

"My sister's gone off the deep end," Quistis started muttering to herself.

"Now wait for me and don't fuss, or else you'll ruin it. It'll only take me a little while to get dressed."

Quistis rolled her eyes as Rinoa went into the bathroom. She should have known that _something_ was going on when Rinoa started to pout for a weekend trip to Balamb.

The General, frustrated with Rinoa, had decided to concede and send her away, if only to get some peace. However, he was not going to let her get away with just _anything_. So he got out Old Reliable.

Sure, Quistis, the stepdaughter. The older one. The mature one. The proper one. The straight-laced one. Quistis would watch over her.

_Straight-laced ladies do not look like this!_ Quistis scowled at herself in the mirror. To think that she'd left St. Julian's Ladies' Academy for _this_! If any of her fellow instructors could see her now…

She looked at her valise longingly, thinking of the twenty reports she had planned to spend the evening looking over. And then she considered her bed and the desk, buried under dresses, bottles, jars, and palates.

This trip was _not_ supposed to turn out like this. She had an exam on Monday in World History that she needed to write. She had another concerto to practice. She had ironing to do.

And most of all, she had to maintain her anonymity. Wearing a getup worthy of a harlot was not going to allow her to stay on the sidelines. And it wasn't going to help her growing reputation as a lady...and spinster.

She could think of a thousand different things she'd prefer to going to a ball and babysitting her stepsister.

Those reasons all flew from her mind when her baby sister exited the bathroom in a cream and gold halter dress, as formfitting and revealing as hers, and smiled at her.

For all the fuss that she invoked, Rin really was a dear. Quistis sighed, and not for the first time wondered where Rin got all her energy. Julia Heartilly had died many years ago. The General was a very...powerful force.

Quistis's own life before Caraway and Heartilly had been quite...elegant. Her own father had died when she was four, and her mother had sent her away to St. Julian's.

Every once in a while, Quistis met up with her mother to maintain some semblance of a relationship. They were...good associates. They worked well together, Quistis concluded. Her mother was never truly affectionate, but Claudia Trepe never was the sentimental, matronly type.

Her mother remarried when Quistis was sixteen. Instead of her usual traveling during the summer, Quistis was asked to go to her mother's wedding, and meet the other half of her new family.

Having a family thrust upon her was not easy, but Quistis took it in stride, as she did everything. Her mother was pleased, as was The General; never had he seen a young woman so graceful, so elegant, and so well-behaved. He could not help but look at his own daughter with a tinge of regret.

Rinoa was a hellion. Even at twelve, she caused a commotion wherever she went. She was willful, spirited, and any socialite's worst nightmare.

Such sentiments should have caused a rift between the two girls, but their contrasts brought them together. No, Quistis corrected, _Rin _brought them together. Rin's warm heart. So innocent and so completely free of jealousy.

Rin simply worshipped her new sister. Rin would walk by Quistis with awe and pride in glimmering in her eyes. Rin was so completely in love with Quistis, because Rin knew that Quistis was so good. So beautiful. Because she knew that she'd never met anyone like Quistis, nor was she ever going to. And because Quistis was unique, Rinoa had concluded, Quistis was not to be copied. Quistis was not an example. She was the only.

Being so worshipped, who could blame Quistis for letting her coldness slowly unfold? For loving the adorable, light thing that entered her life?

Rin was the only person she ever truly loved. Most of the time, she liked the Mother she didn't really know, and all of the time, she respected the General. But never had she met anyone so lovable as Rin.

And, in a way similar to Rin, she'd resigned herself to being the way she was. Rin was Rin. Not anyone to be jealous of. Not anyone to contend with, or not anyone to imitate. Just someone to love, adore, and cherish.

The summer the sisters had spent together was a golden one. Who knew it'd be the only true time they'd have together? Come fall, Quistis was shipped off back to St. Julian's, and Rin...well she went back to being Rin.

Over the years, they'd reunited for various occasions, such as holidays or important birthdays. They'd always stay up late, bundled together under covers together, talking. Rin would have some crazy scheme, or would be gaga over some boy. Quistis would listen, and give sound practical advice, hoping some but not too much of her common sense would eventually rub off on her sister.

And now, while their meetings had become more frequent, the role "older sister" had now been redefined as "chaperone" by The General.

Quistis resented the change in status. Rinoa treated her the same as ever, but The General...it was as if he had a new set of expectations. _She_ was held _fully responsible_ for all of Rin's actions. It did not help that her own education had taken a stricter turn as well.

Rin was sixteen, and she was...well, Rin. Of course she was going to do silly things! Quistis couldn't be held accountable for them all, nor did she want to. Her occupation was to monitor and chastise. Not her life.

More, Rin was too naive and beautiful to handle all the pressures of growing up. Tact, diplomacy, and politics. Acting.

As Rinoa applied her makeup, Quistis watched the girl, saw the excited flame in her dark eyes, the dreamy smile on her lips...the general happy casualness of her carriage. One could not but help relax in Rinoa Heartilly's presence.

It was dangerous.

Rinoa met her stepsister's eyes in the mirror, and smiled. No, Quistis sighed, she would not have her sister "grow up" for the world. "Hurry up kiddo. Remember, I turn back into a mouse at midnight.

* * *

It had been a long, grueling day, but he'd gotten through it.

They both had.

And they owed it all to Xu.

Seifer Almasy was well aware of the fact that if Xu hadn't been such a damn bitch, both Squall and him would not have been able to work together to pass the exam.

Even _if_ having Zell Dincht as their squad leader was a trial, both Squall and Seifer knew that Xu was careful in her choice. If she had chosen either of them, the other would have been hell to work with.

She was perceptive, which made her a great instructor. She never took any of his advances, which made her a damn near perfect one. But it didn't make her any better as a woman.

Seifer leaned back against the wall in his SeeD uniform as Squall Leonheart reluctantly entered the ballroom. He nodded a reluctant acknowledgment, "Leonheart."

Squall nodded and immediately ducked out the doors that led to the balcony.

However, after Squall entered some interesting company. Two tall beautiful women, one that looked vaguely familiar, and the other...

The other was obviously the love of his life.

Because she was looking right at him and scowling.

Quistis scowled under the gaze of that impertinent blonde she'd seen earlier. "Rin, he's looking at me," she said out of the corner of her mouth.

"He should. You're absolutely gorgeous!" Rin smiled proudly, looking into the crowds for someone.

Quistis Trepe Carroway was never gorgeous, irresistible or even interesting. She'd counted on it all her life. It allowed her to watch people without distractions. It allowed her freedom to move throughout circles without being noticed.

It allowed her to be who she was.

And excel at it.

She shifted in her extremely uncomfortable shoes and wished she'd ignored Rin and brought that book. Well, Rin had had her fun. Quistis looked and felt like an idiot. She was certainly not going to behave like one.

Her resolution made, she moved towards the edge of the ballroom, ignoring the leers, the catcalls, and all other signs of emotional and sexual immaturity. She moved towards the shadows, where she hoped she could spend the remainder of her evening in quiet solitude.

Other people had their own plans, however. Why was she not surprised that the skirt-chaser honed in on her?

She answered the question for herself fairly quickly: she was the only woman in the room with whom he did not have an acquaintance. All the others, well, save Rin, were watching her with intense jealousy.

Quistis wanted to laugh. Jealous? When had she ever been the subject of jealousy? Why, that was the most ridiculous thing in the world! Her students wouldn't have been able to picture it.

"Good evening," he said charmingly.

And, she was sure, he was perfectly aware of just how charming he was. "Indeed it is," she replied stiffly. She allowed herself an examination of the man before her. The uniform was elegantly cut and appeared to be barely broken in; he'd just passed his SeeD entrance exam earlier today, hadn't he?

"Interested?" he teased.

"Not particularly," she replied.

Seifer smirked. So she was one of the tougher ones. He'd figured as much when he'd seen her in her straight-laced suit this morning. "Well I am. Who would have thought you'd clean up so nicely?"

Was it really considered cleaning up when she felt so stripped down? She raised her eyebrow and answered briskly. "I could say the same. You look better with more clothes on," she responded. "Are you done with me or do we have to continue this?"

"Just a bit longer. I'm quite resilient, you know. And I thrive on challenge."

As did she, but this was one she was more than willing to back out of. The way he said the last word had her stomach doing all kinds of crazy shit. She'd dealt with assholes before, jerks who thought they could get Carroway's perfect China Doll to go wild just for them. So just why did this one affect her so?

It must have been the dress. She felt so naked, out of character. Out of whack. She was going to kill Rin.

Quistis pushed herself away from the wall. "Funny, I do as well. But next time you try, have something better than one-liners. That works for the dorm-floozy, but I'm steps classier than her," she cut quickly. She then made for a quick retreat while he laughed behind her.

"A name, Cinderella?" he asked.

"Why make it easy when we both know you're smarter than that?" she returned sarcastically. "You figure it out. And when you do, you can give this back to me," she recklessly reached down, took off her left high heel, and tossed it at him.

After taking the other shoe off, she stormed out of the ballroom, determined never to ever frequent a ballroom again.

_Damn tedious waste of an evening_, she mumbled to herself, as she curled up in her covers.

* * *

_One year later_

The sunrise on the day after the world was saved was a good one, and one that Seifer had, at one time, been worried he'd never see.

He'd never imagined that he'd be watching the sunrise from Deling City's Presidential Mansion. That he'd enjoy that tranquil, symbolic moment of beauty. And triumph.

A year ago, he would have never imagined anything, really. He'd been an arrogant naïve punk, all out to prove his maturity, his masculinity. His drive.

A year had changed that. He was no longer naïve. He'd more than proved himself, but in doing so sacrificed parts of him that he had not anticipated. Parts of him that, had he known of their impending loss, he would not have been so eager to toss aside so cavalierly.

But he'd survived. His friends had survived, for the most part. He'd lost classmates and friends along the way, to be sure. But some, he thought of Zell, Selph, Irvine, Rin and Squall, he'd manage to keep. Alive.

And happy, he mused with a grin, as he saw Irvine sneak a kiss to Selph, the lovers having just left the Garden House. No doubt, they'd had more than enough proof of their own vitality the previous evening.

Yes, happy. No doubt, his own roommate, Squall, would be sneaking in their doors momentarily, spent from his own nocturnal activities.

And why not? Seifer pondered as he tossed himself back on the bed. Was it not the time to celebrate? The time for destruction, pain, darkness was over. It was a new day, and with it, rebirth.

Of course, he grinned up at the ceiling, this didn't necessarily mean that he'd turn a blind eye to his friends' escapades. Squall was just beginning to accept ribbing and teasing without a scowl. The way Seif saw it, the day was young, and his friend newly energized. He took the book from his nightstand to await the truant's return, quip already in mind.

* * *

Weaving through the crowds, oblivious to many of the other women who were prepared, equipped and eager to beckon him, Seifer kept his eye on the woman sitting in her chair, who was...he smiled, reading a book. His heart gave a surprising stumble over itself as he realized that he found her spectacles adorable. Her shapeless dress amusing.

Her heart had started pounding the moment she'd seen him enter the room. She'd sunk further behind the potted tree, hoping his gaze would pass right over her. Now that he was upon her, however, she rose to the challenge brilliantly, brazenly.

"Excuse me, you're in my light?"

"Miss Carroway, if it is possible, you look more radiant than ever."

So he had found out who she was. Well, that didn't matter. They were on her home turf, and she was dressed and modestly covered in her comfortable armor. "I'm flustered because you're in my light."

"In your light? I'm sorry," he said, though not sounding apologetic at all.

Since it obvious he wanted more than to block her light, she sent her bespectacled gaze up at him, with her most proper, analyzing glare. "I really doubt that you are, but seeing as you have come all this way to amuse yourself at my expense, I suppose I should feel honored to accommodate you," she responded snidely.

Seifer laughed, though his own faith in his abilities to carry conversation with such a reluctant partner wavered.

The line of his lip was harsher. There were a few folds near his eyes that weren't there. A scar on his chin. Humility at the pain he must have suffered to protect their world made her uneasy with her terseness.

"Dance with me."

Her sense of guilt dissipated. He still smiled at her the same way. The way that made her feel that though she was in this dress, he was imagining the red one. Or nothing at all.

She cleared her throat. "Was that a request or a command?"

"Whichever works..."

"My vanity needs no delusions. I can inform you that I am a terrible dancer," Quistis unfolded her figure from the chair. She had planned to sweep away with dignity and poise (she had, after all, prepared herself for the possibility that she might encounter him again, what, with him being one of the saviors of the world and all) but lost any and all chance at an elegant exit, as -crack!- her head glanced his chin on her way up.

He stood back, massaged his chin with a pained grin on his face, his green eyes glittering with amusement.

"Oops. Sorry," she said, quickly recovering her composure, her own head hurting but she pride refusing to acknowledge the pain.

"I'm sure you aren't," Seifer responded amusedly.

"Perhaps you should have stood farther away, Mr. Almasy. Excuse me," she started, but he grabbed her arm.

"Don't I get another shoe or something?"

She scowled, stomped off, but before she could leave the corner entirely, she angrily reached down, pulled up her skirts to reveal her delectably elegant ankles, remove her shoe, and throw it at his head.

He caught the shoe with alacrity and laughed.

* * *

Oh how mortifying! Quistis slapped water on her face. 

She _knew _coming as a bad idea. Persecuted, harassed, reduced to violence!

Though, she concluded as she examined the bump on her head, the violence had not been intentional, and it had been just as painful for her as it had been for him...more so, as his chin was solid rock.

Though, she smiled grimly into the mirror, she'd been known to have a hard head. She allowed herself a smile before falling into herself again in mortification.

But throwing a shoe? How humiliating. It was bad enough that she'd lost enough composure to do it once. The fact that he now owned two of her shoes was terrible.

The loss of one of Rin's favorite heels did not ruffle her. After all, it had been her stupid idea that got Quistis into this mess. Rin had to pay somehow.

But that he owned one of her serviceable wear-with-any-dress black dancing heels frustrated her to no end.

She hated ballrooms. She hated dancing. But those shoes were comfortable and did the job. They also matched most of her ballgowns. And now she had to go out and get another pair.

She hated shopping.

* * *

"What's next?" Squall asked his friend later that night. The two had settled down do a comfortable silence, watching the festivities.

"I've been thinking of getting married," his friend replied.

Squall looked at his friend, and wondered if he was in earnest. "Married? To whom, may ask?"

Quistis Trepe Carroway was a puzzle. Was the Siren and the Frump one and the same? He would have wondered, had she not acted in the same abrasive manner both times. He grinned. "My Cinderella. My Loud Red Cinderella."

Squall nodded, but did not understand. His friend had obviously chosen another conquest, but this one seemed to be permanent.

But Seifer was always one for impulses. And they'd all benefited more than once from his instincts.

So...Squall mused. Whatever floated his boat was fine. "To the new Mrs. Almasy."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Ok, more than a week. My apologies. :(_

_Also, I'd like to say that I was strongly inspired by Jane Austen in writing this story._

_Same disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me._

* * *

**Chapter Two: Negotiations**

Quistis loved St. Julian's Ladies' Academy. It'd been her home since she was five, and it would be her home, she mused, until she died.

The stone and glass castle was a temple that paid homage to ancient architectural styles. And Quistis knew every stained glass window, every gargoyle. She knew the historic ancient pieces that furnished each room, and the subject and artist of each and every painting that graced the long elegant hallways.

To others, the magnificent sprawling estate with its 200 rooms and 20 acres of immaculately kept grounds might have been intimidating. To Quistis, it was perfection in a building.

She pulled the hover up the long winding driveway and parked in front of the building, handing her keys to Jeffries. Two teenage girls had just come back from a walk, and smiled at Quistis in greeting. "Good afternoon, Headmistress. Welcome back."

"Ariele, Jenna, good afternoon!"

Welcome back indeed. Quistis took a long deep breath, and let the tension out on a sigh that was carried away by the gentle breeze. She scanned the neat green lawns; she wanted to kiss every single blade of grass she was so happy to be here again.

Forget the awkward and strained family meal she'd picked her way through. Forget the pitying looks she got from the other women at the balls. And forget the lecherous men who approached her, just because she sat alone and in the dark.

Forget Seifer Almasy, Hero of the World. And her lost shoes.

It didn't matter. That was a different world. One in which she did not want to be.

She was here.

She was free to be herself once more.

She turned and entered her home.

* * *

She read over the communication again. 

And while she didn't doubt the authenticity, she once more checked the watermark, the ink of the laser-burned seal. Her fingers trembled as they followed the bumps of the notary stamp.

It was arranged. Already arranged.

Had there been an inquiry as to whether or not she _wanted_ this? No.

Barbaric practices!

How could this even be possible? The time for arranged marriages had long passed. There was no way a contract like this could hold.

And yet, the severe-looking signature on the bottom made it clear to her that she had to obey.

The General had again decided for her what was to come.

And for the first time in her life, she was afflicted with that hot fire of rebellion that had she'd previously not understood in Rinoa. She wanted to run away. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to just take the world, and turn it every which way until the way up was _her_ way, the way that made sense.

How _dare_ he? What did she _ever_ do to deserve _this_?

All she ever wanted was to stay at St. Julian's. Hide away, fade from the General's mind. She'd been told all her life where to go, what to do. She wanted to be independent. In another two months, she would have been.

But this...this would end all her freedom. Chained to a man! To take his name!

Beyond that, to such a man!

She didn't even know him. But apparently, that wasn't important. What mattered was that he, Seifer Almasy, had a part in saving the world, and when asked what he wished for as his reward, he'd named _her_.

It was a long and extreme way to go for a joke or a lark. She hated how young people made these incredibly foolish and impulsive choices. It was why she lacked patience for them. Why she was frustrated and embarrassed to be around them.

Why on Earth would the world's most eligible bachelor _choose_ to marry her?

Rinoa was already taken, to be sure, but there were other women out there. Women who were more suited to his fast-paced lifestyle. Who could glitter and glimmer complementarily. She was not supposed to be a hero's wife.

There was no denying that she certainly...wasn't aesthetically unpleasing. Quistis knew that.

And she had the elegance, the grace to carry herself well in public.

But to be married to such a man!

He had nothing she wanted. And she was pretty sure the only thing he wanted out of her was...well...she wasn't going to give him _that_. Not easily.

She didn't think he was _that_ stupid as to go to this length just to _bed_ her.

"Um...Headmistress?"

She looked up at the knock on the door. Jenny, her secretary looked nervous. "Yes, what is it?" she replied smoothly, fighting to keep her frustrations to herself.

"There is a gentleman to see you."

She had not anticipated any of the girls' parents to visit today. She quickly folded the document back up and put it in the top drawer of her desk. Standing up, straightening her suit, she replied to Jenny, "You can send him in."

Recalling her task before the delivery of this very unwanted, unhappy piece of news, Quistis reached for her notepad and wrote down a few more notes to the agenda for the faculty meeting that was to take place in an hour. When she looked up, she was almost calm, and had a diplomatic smile on her face.

It vanished into a frown when her gaze focused on her guest.

He was brave, coming in a mere hour after the notice arrived.

Her heart shouldn't have picked up, but it did. Her palms should not have become sweaty, but they did. "Well if it isn't my betrothed," she mused derisively. She managed to keep the nerves out of her voice, letting the smooth, placid tones ring with cynicism.

Seifer grinned. "Nice to see you too, Cinders." He took her in.

The suit's sharp angles were severe, but it was extraordinarily tailored, the cut so exacting that the thrust of her breast, curve of her hips, the nip of her waist were outlined perfectly. Not one loose thread or speckle of lint littered the perfect stretch of fabric. She buttoned her blouse clear up to her neck, hiding those elegant collarbones and the kissable freckle right above her right breast. Not one strand of hair fell loose from the austere bun.

"Disappointed?" she lifted an eyebrow over her spectacles.

"Just intrigued," he returned with one of his more brilliant smiles.

It annoyed her.

"Please, take a seat," she gestured to the seat across the desk from hers.

She considered him. If she'd _wanted_ to get married, Seifer Almasy wasn't a bad candidate, she reluctantly admitted. If you considered _only _physical appearances. And the fact that he saved the world.

"See something you like?"

And completely ignored his cocky personality.

She'd had her fill of being shoved around and answering to summons.

"Not enough to tempt me."

Seifer laughed.

Quistis cleared her throat. "In most cases, I suppose I should be flattered that such a hero should choose to bless my humble self with his attentions, but I cannot allow it. I will inform you right now that this arrangement has only confirmed my low opinion of you."

He shouldn't have found her miss-ish headmaster tone very attractive, but he thought it absolutely adorable. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I was running out of options," he replied lazily, sinking back into his seat.

Quistis started to pace. He watched her legs. How did she exercise? Running? Swimming? "Why, because I turned down the previous one of going to bed with you from the start? I will not marry you so that you can get another notch on your bedpost, or some trophy to drag around and show off. Go find someone else." It amazed her that she hadn't lost facility over her speech yet; among strangers, she rarely performed so well.

"It's not about bedfellows, love. It's about you and me."

"There is no such thing as 'you and me'," she enunciated stiffly. "And don't call me things like that."

"There will be," he smiled. "But just to make sure you're comfortable with it all, we'll just make it a nice long engagement. How's a year for you?"

"How's about a century?"

"While I said this was not about bedfellows, I'd just like to say that it would be nice to still be able to enjoy my conjugal rights."

She scowled at him, "If you proceed with this idiotic practice, I can make sure you won't enjoy _any _rights with _any _women for as long as you live."

"Strong words," he mused.

"I'm stronger than you think."

"I'll bet you are. But why don't you sit down. You're not going to get anywhere if you keep on standing there and pouting. I've got a contract with your father, and it doesn't matter if you throw twenty tantrums-"

"I'm not throwing a tantrum." Her eyes flashed darkly, and Seifer thought to himself that he'd never seen such a beautiful color in his life.

"Discontent aside, why don't you sit down and let me talk this through with you for a second, sweetheart."

She caught herself before she could say something she'd regret. Though at this point, she highly doubted she'd regret anything. "Don't call me sweetheart," she returned quickly, temper temporarily under control. She took a seat back at her desk.

He wanted to just toss the contract in her face and inform her that he could call her whatever he wanted, and that she was in no position whatsoever to put up a fight.

But he also wanted her consent and cooperation, and he was not going to get that unless he was patient...and fair.

He always played fair, of course. But it didn't mean that he couldn't dream of cutting corners every once in a while.

"What would it take for you to marry a gentleman of your acquaintance?"

Quistis raised a brow. "A _gentleman_?" she sneered.

So he didn't know who his parents were. It gave her no right to make it sting. "Yes."

"I'll say right now that it was never in my plan to get married."

Seifer shook his head with a wry smile. "You'd be content to stay here, being headmistress for the rest of your days."

"That _was_ the plan. I have my inheritance, so I certainly shan't _want _for anything."

"And you were happily waiting until you reached that majority so that you could declare your independence."

"Again, that _was_ the plan."

Seifer considered her carefully. "We digress. I didn't ask you to confirm my suspicion that you'd happily remain the virgin spinster the rest of your life. I asked what it'd take for you to marry."

Quistis sighed tiredly. "I don't need money, and I don't need position. Really, the only thing that I'd ever be able to get out of a husband that I _don't_ have is companionship. So I suppose that if I were _courted_, and felt _fondly _for my prospective partner, I'd marry."

Seifer got off his seat. Quistis warily watched as he came around the desk to look out the window. "We'll have a courtship period, then."

"You want to _court_ me."

"Sure. If that's what it takes."

"And if you court me and I _won't_ be wooed?"

"Then we marry anyway."

Quistis pressed her lips into a thin line.

"And if you court me and _you_ change your mind?"

She was watching him carefully. He opened his mouth to speak. He was surprised how easily the lie came, "Then I suppose I'll simply call the whole damn thing off."

Quistis was silent as she considered her well-manicured fingernails. "You'd court me here."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Duties have me busy in Deling, so I'll have to court you there."

"I cannot leave my students here," Quistis said rigidly.

Her eyes held a resolve so unshakable. He'd have to pick his battles. "A compromise: I'll court you here for the next four months. Then you spend your summer holiday in Deling, where I will continue to court you."

"There are still changes to the curriculum that I needed to-"

"You will take care of it from Deling," Seifer said.

Quistis opened her mouth to protest.

"Or we could just get married next week," he said.

Quistis snapped her mouth shut.

"We'll publicly announce our engagement in September," he stated with certainty.

But the new school year would start then. She'd be busy with the new class of students. When were they going to-

He wasn't really anticipating her coming back here, was he? Sure, she _might_ just get one more school year out, under the guise of extensive wedding planning. But after that, that was it. Nothing more. Just being there. As his wife. She looked at him insolently. His jaw was clenched and though she'd never had _truly_ violent thoughts before, she wanted to punch him in the face. Stomach. Groin. Anywhere.  
"_If_ you still want to marry me," she said defiantly.

Seifer looked at her coolly. "If I do."

It was perverse, really. At this point, he probably would have married her no matter what now, just out of principle. She examined her fingernails, focusing her attention on each one, trying to keep her thoughts together. She swallowed the painful lump in her throat. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to do anything to make him see her weakness.

And of course, she could still completely disgust him before September.

Quistis tried not to grip _her _desk too tightly as she pushed herself out of her chair. And tried not to look over her office too longingly and lovingly. It wasn't over yet. She didn't have to start thinking in morbid terms yet.

"We'll see about that. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Almasy, I have a faculty meeting to prepare for."

He extended a hand, but she refused.

Perhaps he should have persisted, or established something at this moment, but he didn't press.

He had seven months, after all.


End file.
